To Ashes And Blood

Hell

The words of the guard lingered in his ears.

"You're in Hell now."

Damien slowly turned around.

"This is Hell?"

A quiet stone pathway stretched before him.

Rows of flowering trees lined both sides, their branches swaying gently beneath a cool breeze that carried the scent of fresh grass instead of ash.

Low fountains trickled softly into narrow streams that wound through carefully trimmed gardens.

Small metallic robots moved silently between the flowerbeds.

Each stood no taller than a child, their polished bodies reflecting the evening light.

Damien blinked.

"How?"

He had expected Hell. Instead, it felt closer to a forgotten paradise.

Ahead stood an enormous building constructed from a mixture of ancient stone and salvaged steel.

Tall glass windows reflected the gardens behind him, while vines climbed across its outer walls.

Above the entrance, carved into a slab of black metal, were two words.

El Sanctum

Damien stared at them for a long moment.

"You've got to be kidding me."

He pushed the doors open, only to be greeted by a lively atmosphere instead of the silence he had anticipated. Conversations overlapped from every direction. Footsteps echoed across polished floors.

Children laughed somewhere in the distance.

People called out names.

Metal carts rolled across the hall.

For a second, Damien simply stood in the doorway before slowly walking in. His eyes wandered across the enormous lobby. It was larger than the academy's central hall.

Damien found an empty seat near the center of the hall. Then he noticed what everyone else was waiting for.

At the far end of the lobby was a circular reception desk manned by six women.

Each worked with calm efficiency, speaking with visitors before directing them elsewhere. Embedded into the polished surface before each station was a black metal plaque.

DISPUTES

CONTRACTS

BOUNTY REQUESTS

MEDICAL CARE

CURRENCY EXCHANGE

WEAPON LICENSES

Damien read each sign twice.

His eyebrows slowly knitted together.

"This isn't..."

He couldn't bring himself to finish his sentence. Just then, a bell chimed somewhere beyond the lobby, and one of the women behind the Medical Care desk looked up.

"Next."

An elderly man slowly rose from his seat, leaning heavily on a rusted walking stick before going through a glass door.

Damien watched him for a moment before turning his attention elsewhere.

A little boy sat across from him with both feet dangling above the floor.

He hugged a cracked toolbox against his chest while his mother gently rubbed the dirt from his cheeks.

Beside them, two men quietly unfolded a map across their laps, tracing routes with blackened fingers.

Further down the row, a woman in patched clothing clutched a bundle wrapped in cloth.

Judging from the way she held it close...Whatever was inside meant everything to her.

Damien frowned. No one here looked like the criminals he'd imagined.

One of the doors opened, and a man stepped into the lobby.

His eyes filled with joy as he examined his body as though he couldn't believe it was his own.

A young woman ran toward him.

"Dad!"

She threw her arms around him. Behind her was a little girl.

Unlike the others, a transparent mask covered the lower half of her face.

Thin tubes ran from the mask to a small oxygen cylinder strapped securely to her back.

The tank looked almost too large for someone her size.

She moved forward carefully before stopping in front of the man, who crouched to meet the girl's height.

Then the little girl reached up with both hands and gently cupped his cheeks.

"You look nice, Grandpa."

The man's lips quivered as tears flowed freely from his eyes.

He slowly raised a hand to the side of his neck.

Just beneath his jaw sat a newly implanted filtration device.

Fresh stitches surrounded the metal plate where it disappeared beneath his skin.

He let out a broken, trembling laugh.

"This..."

He swallowed hard.

"...this is the first time..."

His voice cracked.

"...the first time my granddaughter has ever touched my face since she was born."

His wife covered her mouth as tears rolled down her cheeks.

The little girl giggled, completely unaware of why her grandparents were crying.

"I can hug you now."

The man pulled both of them into his arms.

Damien couldn't look away. His fingers unconsciously moved toward the filtration device on his own neck.

The academy had taught them that advanced filtration implants were reserved for high-ranking Ashens, military personnel, and government officials.

As the family disappeared through the front doors, Damien's gaze slowly swept across the lobby once more.

For the first time since stepping into Corridor Nine, Damien began to understand why people waited days just to enter Hell.

Then the large double doors behind the reception area swung open, and a tall man stepped into the lobby.

He wore a long charcoal coat over a simple black shirt. Despite his imposing height and stature, there was no trace of arrogance in the way he carried himself.

People moved aside to clear a path as whispers spread through the waiting hall.

"One of the Pillars..."

Before Damien could wonder what that meant, a man suddenly rushed forward and dropped to his knees.

"Please!"

His voice cracked.

"My daughter has been missing for three days! I don't know where else to look anymore. Please help me!"

The tall man stopped and looked down at the desperate father for a long moment before gently raising a single finger.

"Dimitri only hears your case after Dimitri finishes meeting with the Eastern Delegates."

His voice was deep but calm and patient.

He pointed toward the circular reception desk.

"Wait there. They may be able to help you before Dimitri returns."

The man lowered his head repeatedly.

"Thank you... Thank you, Sir Dimitri."

Without another word, Dimitri continued walking down another corridor until he disappeared behind a heavy steel door.

Only then did the conversations slowly resume.

Damien stared after him.

"...Who was that?"

He hadn't meant to say it out loud.

The young man sitting beside him chuckled.

"First time?"

Damien looked toward him.

"Yeah..."

The young man nodded toward the hallway Dimitri had disappeared into.

"That's the First Pillar of Hell. Dimitri. The Gentle Giant."

He turned back to look at Damien.

"They say he settled a war between two districts without throwing a single punch."

He scratched the back of his head.

"Some swear he has a twin."

He laughed quietly.

"I'll never know, though. I've never left Corridor Nine."

Before Damien could respond, the young man pointed toward a corner of the lobby.

"Look over there…..that's Bilal."

Damien followed his finger. Bilal sat around a square table with four merchants, laughing as he casually played cards. Several piles of chips sat in front of him.

"So that's another five hundred Blood Embers."

Bilal grinned as he collected the winnings.

One merchant groaned.

"You're cheating."

Bilal gasped dramatically.

"I'm offended. I simply understand probability better than you ever will."

The entire table burst into laughter.

A courier hurried over, slightly out of breath.

"Sir. The western smugglers said the shipment arrived yesterday."

Without even looking up from his cards, Bilal placed another card onto the table.

Another messenger came running through the lobby.

"Boss! The Ashens changed their patrol routes!"

Bilal sighed dramatically.

"Clinton..."

He finally looked up.

"That happened six hours ago."

Clinton scratched the back of his neck awkwardly.

"Right."

Bilal smiled.

"You're getting slower. What good is information if you only get it after it has already happened?"

The merchants laughed again while Bilal casually resumed his game.

Damien frowned.

"How did he know that?"

The young man beside him shrugged.

"No one knows. Information reaches Bilal before it reaches everyone else."

"They say if you whisper a secret in Corridor Nine..."

He leaned closer.

"...Bilal hears it before you've finished talking."

Almost on cue, a side door burst open. An enormous man walked out, his shirt torn into several pieces.

A little boy sitting with his mother waved excitedly.

"Mister Klevor!"

The giant looked over with a small smile.

He lifted one hand in greeting before continuing down another hallway without saying a word.

Damien watched until he disappeared.

"...Who is he?"

"The Third Pillar. Klevor. The Ghost."

The young man's cheerful expression faded slightly.

"People say the Hollows hear him….and he hears them."

Damien raised an eyebrow.

"You believe that?"

The young man shrugged.

"Others say he's simply a dead man who forgot to stop breathing because his skin is always cold."

The young man looked toward the direction Klevor had gone.

"I don't know which story is true... and I don't think anyone's brave enough to ask him."

Before Damien could say another word, a little girl jogged happily across the lobby, laughing as she chased after a paper bird folded from an old newspaper.

She wasn't looking where she was going, and her foot caught the edge of a bench.

For a split second, the hall fell silent before the little girl burst into tears.

Her mother rushed over.

"My baby!"

Before she could reach her, a gentle voice spoke first.

"Shhh... we don't cry here."

Everything seemed to soften. A young woman with long, dark green hair had already knelt beside the child.

She smiled warmly.

"It's alright, little dove."

Golden threads of light slowly gathered around her fingertips.

She gently placed her hand over the girl's scraped knee.

The wound disappeared as though it had never existed.

The little girl sniffled once before smiling.

"There."

The woman brushed a strand of hair behind the child's ear.

"All better."

The mother finally reached them.

"Thank you... thank you so much."

The woman smiled before her eyes drifted toward the small oxygen cylinder strapped to the girl's back.

"She's a beautiful little lady."

She rested a hand on the tank.

"But this filtration unit is too heavy for someone her age."

"Take her through that door."

She pointed toward the medical wing.

"They'll fit one designed for children."

The mother's smile faded.

"I'm sorry... right now, we can't afford another one."

The woman reached into her coat and brought out a small circular chip. She placed it gently into the mother's hand.

"Don't worry about it. Just tell them Elara sent you."

The mother's eyes widened.

She bowed so deeply that her forehead almost touched the floor.

"Thank you."

Elara simply smiled and walked away. Elara's eyes settled on Damien.

With her gentle smile still on her face, she looked at him.

"The Devil has been expecting you."

The chatter around the lobby continued as though she hadn't just spoken the words that made Damien's heart skip a beat.

He slowly stood.

"Me?"

Elara nodded.

"This way, please."

She turned gracefully and began walking toward a long corridor branching away from the waiting hall.

Damien hesitated for only a second before following.

As they walked away, he heard an excited squeal behind him.

"Oh..."

The young man who had been sitting beside him grinned from ear to ear.

"Lady Elara!"

She looked back over her shoulder with a warm smile before walking away. The young man looked at Damien with obvious envy.

"She's the Fourth Pillar of Hell. The Heart of the Ninth."

"You're lucky!" he shouted as Damien walked out of his sight.

Paintings hung neatly along the corridor. They depicted cities before the Collapse, children playing beneath blue skies, towering forests, and crystal-clear oceans.

Damien found himself slowing his pace.

"Was the world really like this?"

Elara answered without turning around.

"So they say."

She stopped before a pair of enormous black doors.

She placed her hand against a scanner, and it gave off a soft chime before the doors hissed open.

The room was enormous, far larger than Damien had expected.

Bookshelves stretched from floor to ceiling, while maps covered one wall.

In the center of the room sat a large circular desk carved from dark wood.

Beyond the desk, facing the opposite direction, was a chair with its back turned toward them.

Whoever occupied it appeared completely absorbed by the enormous painting of Earth hanging on the wall.

The doors hissed shut behind them.

Elara lowered her head. Without thinking, Damien quickly did the same.

Seconds stretched into what felt like an eternity.

Then the chair began to rotate slowly. Damien swallowed. He could hear his heartbeat.

Seeing Elara straighten, he slowly raised his own head.

His eyes caught the figure before he reached the face.

A dragon tattoo sat elegantly along one thigh, disappearing beneath the dark fabric. Just below the filtration device resting against her neck, a hawk with outstretched wings spread across her upper chest.

His breath hitched in his throat as he finally saw the face.

"...Vesna?"

She leaned back comfortably in the chair.

The smile Damien had seen throughout Corridor Nine sat on her face.

"Welcome to Hell, Damien."